


Even Villains Need Friends

by Sinanju



Category: Highlander: The Series, Magnum P.I. (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Highlander Lyric Wheel challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 11:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16062239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinanju/pseuds/Sinanju
Summary: Thomas Magnum discovers that Robin Masters is more than the wealthy romance novelist he pretends to be.Disclaimer:  Thomas Magnum and and all other characters from "Magnum, P.I." belong to Belisarius Productions, Glen A. Larson Productions, and/or Universal TV.  All other characters from "Highlander" belong to Davis/Panzer, Rysher or whoever.  In short, not to me.  All are used without permission.  Remember, it's all in good, clean, non-commercial fun.





	Even Villains Need Friends

A despairing cry jolted Thomas Magnum from his sleep. He sat up, sweeping the room with his gaze even as he reached for the .45 automatic on the bedside table. What had awakened him? No intruder lurked in the room. The door remained shut. Whoever had awakened him wasn't in the room with him.

Magnum climbed out of bed and pulled on a pair of shorts before cautiously searching the rest of the cottage he called home. It took only moments. It wasn't a big place. The door was locked and there was no sign of entry.

He walked back into the bedroom to find shadows from the window blinds dancing erratically on the opposite wall, as if someone were waving a searchlight around outside.

_What on earth?_ Magnum again raised the pistol he'd lowered to his side and eased toward the window. Light flared brighter than ever through the gaps in the blind, accompanied by an electric sizzle. This window of the guest cottage faced the main house of the estate. Nothing on the estate would produce this kind of effect. No longer alarmed but intensely curious, Magnum peeked between the slats of the blind.

On the lawn a man was being electrocuted.

Magnum could see no more than a silhouette. The figure lurched drunkenly as he was repeatedly struck by brilliant bolts of lightning, reeling through the center of an electrical whirlwind. Streamers of lightning crawled over his body, hammering him relentlessly. As he flailed about, Magnum saw the flash of bright steel in his right hand. The man was holding a sword.

Questions whirled through Magnum's mind. Who was that? What was happening to him? Could he possibly survive the experience? Why was he holding a sword? Even as he wondered, Magnum moved, prompted by military training and experience. He discarded the .45 on the bed as useless and ran for the door, pausing only long enough to grab a first aid kit. God knew it was hopelessly inadequate to the task but it was all he had.

Magnum ran around the corner of the guest cottage--and stopped, ducking for cover as a streamer of light hurled itself into the tree to his left, blowing off a limb. Wood dust and ozone filled Magnum's nose, making him sneeze. Magnum's whole body tingled with the sudden electrical charge around him. The shattered limb crashed down at his feet, smoldering. He crouched at the corner of the building, not daring to go closer.

The man on the lawn was standing still, no longer battered. Lightning chased its tail across his body, arcing outward now rather than toward him. It blasted divots in the well-kept lawn and ignited a smoky fire in an ornamental shrub. Magnum glanced away, up at the night sky. It was deep and black and full of stars. So where had the lightning come from? 

When he looked down again the man on the lawn was wreathed by the lightning now, illuminating his face. It was a face Magnum recognized, though he hadn't seen it in years. A dark complexion and broad nose, the dramatic widow's peak over wideset piercing eyes.

"Robin?" Magnum called out, incredulous.

Robin Masters.

Robin Masters, standing on the lawn of his estate, arms and legs widespread, a look of grim ecstasy on his face, with a sword upraised in one hand.

As Magnum stared the light faded away, as if it had soaked into Robin's skin. Robin stood transfixed for a moment on trembling legs. Then he opened his eyes, surprise flowering on his face as he spotted Magnum, and fell first to his knees, then on his side to roll onto his back.

Magnum edged closer. He didn't realize how close until he almost tripped over a body lying no more than ten feet from Robin. The body of a well-built man in dark clothing. Magnum had been so focused on Robin and the lightning display that he'd completely overlooked the body.

And the head. The very blonde head which lay very near the feet.

Magnum dragged his attention away from the body and looked to his friend.

"Robin?" Magnum said quietly.

Robin rolled his head lazily to look up at Magnum with sleepy eyes. "Thomas," he replied. Even exhausted he spoke with that familiar theatrical cadence. "It's good to see you again--even if this is not how I imagined our reunion."

"Robin, what is all this? What's going on? What are you doing fighting--hell, someone with a sword? Who was he? And what the hell's the story on that lightning storm?" Magnum started out speaking calmly, but with each question he felt his control slipping. He shouted the last question into a ringing silence, then stood trembling with fury--and fear.

Everything he'd witnessed tonight had left his sense of reality bruised. Robin appeared to be tired but unharmed, impossible as that seemed. His casual greeting following such a bizarre event was infuriating.

"So many questions," Robin mused. He struggled up to a sitting position, moving with the slow deliberation of a man exhausted or drugged. Then he extended his left hand in a mute request for assistance.

Magnum locked gazes with Robin, still angry and, yes, a little frightened by what he'd seen. This was a side of his friend he'd never seen and would never have imagined. He wanted to shake answers from Robin Masters, but knew it would be fruitless. Robin answered questions, if at all, in his own time. He chose instead to take the upraised hand and help Robin to his feet.

Robin held his hand for a moment, giving him an approving look. "I'll answer all your question, Thomas. But inside, over drinks."

* * *

Robin refused to pour the drinks until Magnum took a seat in front of his desk. Magnum did so with poor grace, slouching in the chair and glowering at Robin. He knew that Robin was taking pleasure in drawing out the anticipation, knew that displaying his impatience would only egg Robin on. He couldn't help it.

When Robin handed him a drink, Magnum pointedly gulped it down and placed the glass on Robin's desk. After a moment's grinning hesitation, Robin followed suit. He put down the glass and looked at Magnum with a sober expression. "Enough games," Robin said. "I suppose I should start by telling you that the man I killed called himself Eric Kriegler."

"Called himself? What was his real name?"

Robin shrugged. "I don't know. Kriegler may have been his real name. I never met him before tonight."

"Why would a complete stranger try to kill you with a sword?"

"An excellent question. He attacked me, Thomas, because that is how the Game is played."

"What game?"

Robin Masters smiled. It was a predator's smile, toothy and menacing and not at all friendly. "The only Game worth playing, Thomas. The quest for the Prize."

Magnum listened with ill-concealed incredulity and growing anger as Robin Masters spun a fantastic tale of so-called immortals who never grew sick, never aged, and died only if decapitated. Did Robin really think him such a gullible fool? Twice he objected to sitting through this fairy tale--and twice Robin's voice lashed at him, silencing him by the sheer force of his personality. Robin spoke of single combat, Quickenings, the Gathering and the Prize--and Magnum listened. His anger dimmed, muted by his memory of recent events. What else could explain what he'd seen? Didn't the lightning storm resemble the Quickenings Robin described?

Magnum struggled to make sense of Robin's mad tale. He found it impossible to reconcile the reclusive intellectual and novelist he'd known for so long with the ruthless killer he claimed to be. There were so many questions. After a moment, he chose one. "So you're one of these immortals?"

"Yes."

"The bio on your novels says you were born in 1949." It wasn't quite a question, but Robin answered it.

"It's false. As is everything else in my biography. Including my name. My real name is St. Cloud. Xavier St. Cloud. I was born more than eight hundred years ago."

If Robin--or Xavier--had intended to impress Magnum with that figure, he must have been disappointed. Magnum's capacity for enduring shocks had reached saturation. It was just a number, no more real to him just now than all of Robin's millions. Magnum just nodded fractionally, acknowledging that he'd heard.

He sat thinking about everything he'd been told. Robin seemed content to let silence reign while Magnum wrestled with his revelations. 

Magnum looked up. "Why did you tell me all this?"

"I had to tell you," Robin replied. "You'd seen too much. I'd always intended to tell you someday. Tonight's events simply forced my hand."

Magnum shook his head, rejecting the facile explanation. For the first time tonight he felt as if he were on familiar ground. Robin wasn't telling him the whole truth. Years of experience as a private investigator had taught him to recognize half-truths. Clients lied. Witnesses lied. Suspects lied. And when they didn't lie, they shaded the truth or held back juicy tidbits--invariably, the most crucial tidbits. Robin--Xavier--was doing the same.

"No," Magnum said. "No, that's not all of it. You didn't have to tell me all of it. You could have told me enough to explain what I'd seen without mentioning immortals or the rules of the Game. Or the Prize." He paused. "Or you could have killed me, to keep your secret."

Magnum saw Robin acknowledge that possibility. A shadow crossed his face. "No, I could have lied to you, but I could not kill you. "You're my friend, Thomas. I have few enough friends without killing them myself."

"Then why?"

"Because I am a mirror, Thomas. I am a mirror. Looking at me you see yourself." Magnum stared at Robin as the realization of his meaning struck home. "Or at least," Robin continued, "what you could be."

"That's--" _Ridiculous. Absurd. Terrifying._ "Impossible."

Robin's smile spoke volumes.

"I'm not an immortal," Magnum objected. He felt stupid for entertaining the notion, even for an instant. Even if only to reject it. "I've been sick. I've been beaten up--even shot. I don't heal faster than anyone else."

"Not yet." With those words, Robin--Xavier--produced a pistol seemingly from nowhere and shot Magnum three times in the torso. Magnum was taken completely by surprise. He was dead before he fully realized what had happened.

* * *

A hammerblow to the chest roused Magnum, that first spastic contraction of a dead heart waking to renewed life. The first gasping breath burned like fire and seemed to go on forever as his oxygen starved body shrieked for more. Darkness shot through with sparks filled Magnum's vision, slowly receding. His heartbeat thundered in his ears and throbbed in his fingertips--and in the pain like hot coals in his chest.

Magnum lay motionless, his body leaden with fatigue. The fire in his lungs burned brightly, stoked by gasping breaths that left him exhausted. Magnum stared up at a paneled ceiling, wondering where he was and how he had gotten there. The heat spread through Magnum's torso and into his limbs, turning into a painful tingling of returning circulation which slowly faded. His heartbeat slowed and gentled as well. A ringing silence filled his ears.

Robin stepped into Magnum's field of vision, looming over him. "Feeling better?"

The sight of Robin broke the logjam of memories. Helpless fury and a sense of betrayal poured through Magnum. He lunged up to a sitting position with renewed strength, shaking with the sudden shock of adrenaline. "You _shot_ me!" he shouted at Robin.

"Yes, I did," Robin replied. "But I've done you no lasting harm."

Magnum's anger evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. Robin _had_ shot him. Magnum looked down at himself. Where he would have expected to see bullet wounds he saw only blood matted hair and smooth, unbroken skin. No visible evidence of the injury remained. His fingers confirmed it. No bullet holes or scars, nor any pain or disability. It was impossible and undeniable at once.

Magnum looked up at Xavier again, seeing _Xavier_ for the first time. He'd said he was over eight hundred years old. Eight hundred years. The weight of those accumulated years seemed to press the breath from Magnum's body. Xavier had been centuries old when Columbus discovered the New World. It was all true, Magnum realized.

All of it. Immortals fighting with swords, beheading one another, fighting for Quickenings and the Prize. And now Magnum was one of them--with all that implied. He glanced past Xavier to the sword that lay across the blotter on Xavier's desk, then met Xavier's gaze again--the stranger who wore his old friend's face.

"Now what happens?"

An expression of profound sadness met his question. Somehow he gave the impression of turning to look at the sword without moving. "For tonight, we talk. There's a great deal more you need to know. Tomorrow you begin learning to use a sword."

Xavier stepped closer to grip Magnum's shoulder, his gaze boring into Magnum's eyes, _willing_ him to believe. "If ever we cross swords, it won't be at my instigation. I told you, Thomas. I have few enough friends as it is. I've played the Game for a very long time, and played to win. I've made enemies--and not all of them are dead. They would call me a villain, and not without cause.

"But I am still your friend, Thomas, and always will be. I hope you'll remain mine." Xavier held out his right hand.

Magnum looked at Xavier St. Cloud and wondered. So much of what he'd thought he knew about this man had proved untrue. There was vastly more than he simply didn't know. And yet, the fundamental truths hadn't changed.

This man had been his friend for years in all the ways that really mattered. They had shared good times and bad, and risked their lives for one another--even if neither had risked quite as much as Magnum had believed at the time. If there were men who considered St. Cloud a villain, well, Xavier had always been a friend to Magnum and that was what mattered.

St. Cloud was right. True friendships were too precious to waste. He clasped St. Cloud's hand in his own and held it tightly. "Of course I will--Xavier. Even villains need friends."

**Author's Note:**

> I've always preferred villains who weren't just villains. Nobody is a villain in his own mind, and that includes some of the nasty fellows Duncan MacLeod disposed of. I always thought there had to be more to Xavier St. Cloud than we saw. After all, he inspired enough loyalty in his students that one tried to avenge him after MacLeod killed him. And in his first meeting with MacLeod he refused to take Duncan's head because "I don't kill children." How did that man turn into a villain who used poison gas indiscriminately? It's a mystery.
> 
> As loyal viewers of "Magnum, P.I." know, we never actually _saw_ Robin Masters, the reclusive novelist on whose estate Magnum lived for the duration of the series. Why, he could have been _anyone_. And I've always liked the character of Xavier St. Cloud, so…I decided that "Robin Masters" was just one of St. Cloud's many other identities. Why does St. Cloud write romance novels? Because it amuses him.
> 
> This story was written years ago, for the late, lamented Highlander Lyric Wheel. The lyrics which resulted in this story were sent to me by Kathryn Andersen.
> 
> I Am A Mirror  
> \------------  
> (written by Eric Woolfson, from "Freudiana")
> 
> Suppose I were to tell you that the meaning of dreams  
> Is not all that it seems  
> And the ultimate truth is a lie  
> And you are just a puppet who can dance on a string  
> Do you feel anything?  
> Would you laugh, would you care, would you cry?
> 
> But the meaning of life is a mystery  
> How can anyone disagree?  
> And the music of life is a symphony  
> Which we play in a minor key.
> 
> I am a mirror, I am a mirror, looking at me you see yourself  
> I am a mirror, I am a mirror, every face is someone else  
> Look at me smile and you're the clown  
> And if I dance you turn around  
> Look in my eyes and see your tears  
> Until the music dissappears.
> 
> So if you are confused and don't know which way to go  
> You will certainly know  
> From the moment we're living we die  
> And if it's all a crazy game you don't want to play  
> Tell me what can you say  
> It's a joke, it's the truth, it's a lie.
> 
> But the meaning of life is a mystery  
> That we don't understand so far  
> And the music of life is a rhapsody  
> If you're happy the way that you are.
> 
> I am a mirror, I am a mirror, looking at me you see yourself  
> I am a mirror, I am a mirror, every face is someone else  
> Look at me smile and you're the clown  
> And if I dance you turn around  
> Look in my eyes and see your tears  
> Until the music dissappears.
> 
> And the meaning of life is a mystery  
> Though we live it from day to day  
> But the music of life should be harmony  
> So that anyone here can play.
> 
> I am a mirror, I am a mirror, looking at me you see yourself  
> I am a mirror, I am a mirror, every face is someone else  
> Look at me smile and you're the clown  
> And if I dance you turn around  
> Look in my eyes and see your tears  
> Until the music dissappears.


End file.
